Eating Disorders Are More Common Than You Think. Here's My Story

When I was 18 years old, I existed in a world of numbers. Calories. Weights. I meticulously counted everything—steps, bites, meals, minutes. I had just been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. I developed an eating disorder after a series of events: the loss of a family member, moving out of my house for the first time, starting college, feeling abandoned when most of my friends flew across the world to attend a gap year in Israel, and experiencing a series of tough social experiences that left me feeling broken and unwanted. These events, coupled with my genetics and personal history, led to anorexia. It did not happen overnight. It was not a choice. And it was not a phase. I just found myself behaving and thinking in ways that were self-destructive but somehow made sense. My relationships crumbled as I felt uncomfortable and undeserving of friendships and loved ones. The negative messages I had been given regarding my self-worth sunk in and believed that I had no value. I had already been seeing a therapist before my eating disorder began to deal with the losses and difficulties I mentioned. When I realized I had developed anorexia and told my parents about

When I was 18 years old, I existed in a world of numbers. Calories. Weights. I meticulously counted everything—steps, bites, meals, minutes. I had just been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa.

I developed an eating disorder after a series of events: the loss of a family member, moving out of my house for the first time, starting college, feeling abandoned when most of my friends flew across the world to attend a gap year in Israel, and experiencing a series of tough social experiences that left me feeling broken and unwanted. These events, coupled with my genetics and personal history, led to anorexia.

It did not happen overnight. It was not a choice. And it was not a phase. I just found myself behaving and thinking in ways that were self-destructive but somehow made sense. My relationships crumbled as I felt uncomfortable and undeserving of friendships and loved ones. The negative messages I had been given regarding my self-worth sunk in and believed that I had no value.

I had already been seeing a therapist before my eating disorder began to deal with the losses and difficulties I mentioned. When I realized I had developed anorexia and told my parents about it, the therapist advised them to simply "let it go away on its own, with time." Luckily, my parents stepped in quickly and got me medical attention. I found out that my behaviors had taken a toll not only on my body but also on my mind. My entire pattern of thinking had changed both because I was malnourished and because the eating disorder consumed my brain in a manner that changed me. After months of dragging my feet and living in shadows, my life and meals being spoon-fed to me, I awoke one day to the realities of my situation: I had a mental illness, and I needed help.

The Orthodox Union produced a film called "Hungry to Be Heard" on eating disorders in the Jewish community. My father showed me this film and for the first time since the onset of my eating disorder I cried tears of recognition: I was not alone. I turned to my parents and told them that I needed help. Five years later, I am fully recovered, a statement that for years I thought I'd never be able to make.

Recovery from an eating disorder is a process that involves patience and commitment. After initially returning home from treatment, I was not miraculously cured. It took some time. But the shadow I had become needed to realign itself with the Temimah who was itching and scraping to re-emerge. And so I fought.

My journey toward recovery included reconnecting with friends and rekindling old relationships. I let in my loved ones, who were eager to understand and wanted nothing more than to hold my hand along the journey. I went back to school and began forming an identity again; I was a student, an aunt, a sister, a daughter, a friend.

I involved myself in hobbies and charity work with my father, taking my mind off of my body and struggle. And I reconnected to religion and learned that mine (Judaism) could be a source of hope for me—I had something stronger to believe in.

An eating disorder takes no mercy. It robs the individual of happiness, and a true meaningful life cannot be lived while suffering. My journey to recovery had some kinks, but I knew with all my soul that I wanted to embrace my life and I wouldn't let an eating disorder get in my way.

Temimah Zucker is a student at the Wurzweiler School of Social Work. She speaks publicly on eating disorders and body image, works as a mentor, and is in the process of creating Tikvah V'Chizuk, an organization that will provide support to the Jewish community. Temimah lives in Teaneck, N.J., and has an adorable poodle named Ferdie.